This morning, I raise my glass to those with whom I drink the rising of the sun. I drink in these early hours in the company of the down-trodden, the depressed, the angry, jaded, and bitter. I am celebrating with those debt-ridden, lonely, and sad, with no place and no one to call their own, and I sing to sleep in spinning dirges those who want the light of their eyes to blink out before that sun ever rises. I lift my glass in silence and look around this empty room before I bring that clean bitter to my lips.
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